On the twenty-eighth of August, at noon.
The little plump boy walked into the martial arts ground with his head down, and as soon as he walked in, he was stopped by an arm extended in front of him.
"Eh! Been looking for you?" Pei Ye pulled back his hand and smiled.
Zhang Dingyun looked up, his round eyes drooping, and his face didn't look too happy: "What's the matter?"
"What's with your expression? What have you been up to?"
"Helping set up the Luzhou poetry meeting," Zhang Dingyun spoke gloomily, "Tell me what's on your mind."
"I have a question for you." Pei Ye said, "I see that all the direct disciples of the three factions have already arrived in the prefectural city. Where do you think they usually live?"
Zhang Dingyun looked at him strangely, first glanced back at the west courtyard - the courtyard door was open, and one could vaguely see a young girl and a tall man sitting across each other for tea.
